


Out for Blood

by localmanghoe



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M, Gore, Vampires, brief jim/ reader, lots of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:07:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localmanghoe/pseuds/localmanghoe
Summary: The last Hellsing is out for blood.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	Out for Blood

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY

People disliked mirrors for what they showed you. To be faced with your own reflection was a battle of constant self-acceptance and self-loathing. It is a confrontation that people fear.  
Here you stood too, your refection looking back at you. A few weeks ago, you would say that you just saw yourself, just an average woman. You just saw you.  
But now, as you laced your dress, you saw more. You saw the faces of your family, the features that you shared and took for granted. You were the only living memory of them now, the last of your name, the last Van Hellsing.  
But you had never really feared mirrors for what they showed you. What you truly feared was what the mirror wouldn’t show you. Who the mirror wouldn’t show you.   
The cause for all the pain and suffering in your life, the reason why you were the last of your name. Such an individual brought the end to a century’s old dynasty of monster hunters and exorcists. Some records suggest that your family may have existed before Christ himself.   
The most recent was to fall was your brother. He was a good man, but the world was not kind to good men. Now this age-old task was up to you to complete. To defeat the scourge that had plagued the earth for centuries. At least one Hellsing fell to him every generation. But now it was time for revenge, for you to collect your dues on behalf of your brothers and forefathers.   
You had accepted an invite from the prince of darkness himself. You were sure he intended to make a spectacle of you in from of his guests. But you would not let him. Even if you were killed by his subjects, as long as his blood was on your hands you would happy. You hoped he didn’t expect much of you, you hoped that he was expecting a broken woman in mourning. It would make your job so much easier.  
You finished the final touches on your dress, feeling around and making sure your weapons were hidden appropriately. Sharp instruments in the boning and layers of fabric encasing you.   
You took a deep breath and looked in the mirror again. Happy with your result, you added the final touch. A masquerade mask sent by your host, fitting your face perfectly.   
Muttering a few prayers, you ventured out into the unknown.   
////  
The dread made you nauseous the closer you got to your destination. You took in the world around you, the scent of the trees, the feeling of the cool and crisp air; this might have been the last time you would ever see the outside. But you had accepted that you would meet your end in there.

The brightness inside was almost blinding. You expected darkness, but instead you were met with an Illuminated and lively ballroom.  
The orchestra played a playful tune. Trapeze artists swung above you while fire breathers took the floor. The ballgowns in the room were some of the prettiest you’d ever seen, fabrics that you were sure you couldn’t even name. You were glad that the conversation was so lively, ensuring that no attention would be given to your still beating heart. Enthralled by the room you almost lost track of Jim in the crowd above you.   
You tried to shake out of the spell of wonder that was cast upon you, focusing on the task at hand. You searched the crowd for your target and host, he could have been any one of these beautiful people. You had actually never met before. Only a strand of blond hair was on your brother’s lapels, when you found him decapitated in the garden.  
It was easy to distinguish his brides from the crowd. The three of them were adorned in the richest of ways, each looking like a queen in her own right.   
You had made your way to the other side of the ballroom looking for your target. But still you had no luck. Maybe he was sending you on a wild goose chase, toying with you until he intended to strike. You assumed he just wasn’t here at all. You looked for Jim in the crowd, about to signal him to leave; but a pair of hand around your waist stopped you. 

“What a terrible host I am to not introduce myself to my most honoured guest,” a deep voice spoke behind you.   
His hands stayed on your hips as he moved around to face you.   
“Michael Langdon,” he introduced himself, gently taking your hand, leaving a cold kiss on your knuckle.   
He grinned at you flashing his sharp canines.   
You finally found your voice, “Y/N… Y/N Van Hellsing” you mumbled.   
“The men in your family were quite boisterous, they loved nothing more than making an entrance. You however, a little mouse, I almost lost you in the crowd,” he laughed.   
You clenched your jaw at the mention of your fallen kin. His hands had still not left your body.   
“Thank you for inviting me, I don’t really get out much these days,” you looked into the crowd, trying to calculate an escape route.   
“Yes, well I’m sure the church has no such events,” he replied.   
You only ‘hmmph’ed in response.   
The notes of the previously joyous music began to change, an almost silence took over the room.   
“I’m sure a woman such as yourself knows how to dance,” Michael said, gripping your wrist and pulling you into the crowd.   
You had never wanted to run so far in your life. The crowd parted for their leader and you. It was as if you were a doll the way he positioned you to his linking, not in control of your own limbs at all. You knew this was not a good sign.   
“Do try to keep up,” he whispered to you.  
You had no time to comprehend his request as the violins started to play. You had only heard rumours of this waltz. Composed long ago for Michael himself. For many this was their final dance before they met their demise at his hands, you were sure this would be your final waltz too.   
The pair of you moved around the room so effortlessly, the crowd watching the prince play with his food. The exertion making your blood pump faster, the sound of your heartbeat igniting a hunger in the bloodthirsty onlookers.   
Your host dipped you in front of the mirror. You only saw your own reflection in the mirror, the ballroom seeming empty despite it being full of people. You could not see Michael, but you could feel him, his nose running from you neck and down your breastbone. You heard him inhale and groan as he pulled you back up, licking your pulse point. You still couldn’t move out of his grasp.   
“All these centuries,” Michael started, “and I have never had a Hellsing woman in my arms, I was always afraid to get a taste, that it may be my downfall.”  
He yanked you even closer, Bringing his lips to your ear, the coolness making you shiver.  
“I’m going to tell you a secret,” he whispered. “the Hellsing bloodline ends tonight.”  
His diabolical laugh finally snapped you out of the trance. The waltz was almost over, and you were sure that’s when you would meet your fate. It felt like the crowd was also joining in on the cackling, surrounding you with that mocking sound.  
You were not going to go down without a fight. He had mistaken you for a mouse, made you to be the lamb when you too were a predator.   
The final notes of your dance with death echoed through the ballroom, so did your scream of pain. He sunk his teeth into your neck, staining his chin and cravat with your life force.   
But his jaw suddenly went slack, unlatching from your wound. He pulled away slowly, staggering and struggling to stand. His pale blue eyes filled with shock and pain, his mask falling from his face.   
He finally looked down at his chest. A silver dagger protruding from his undead heart. The holy blade your ancestor vowed to kill Michael with. His fingers burned as he tried to remove it from his chest.   
The crowd looked on with horror, an inhuman cry of anguish emanated from the brides.   
Michael said not a word as he kept his eyes on you. You watched the glamour fade, his skin pale and sickly, with eyes of pure black.   
You too were bleeding out, but far too mesmerised by the sight in front of you to do anything about it. All you could focus on was him, the rest of the world fading into nothing. You heard your name being called out, but it was muffled. You were quickly shuffled away from the scene. 

The feeling of the crisp air on your skin finally brought you back to you senses. You sucked in a sharp breath, as if you had been underwater this whole time.   
It was Jim that was calling out to you and got you out from there. He had haphazardly bandaged your wound in the time you had spent entranced.   
“What is wrong with you Hellsing! We need to move now!” he shouted.   
You quickly nodded. You ran through the forest, unlatching parts of your dress along the way, revealing the armour and riding gear underneath. Your horses waited for you at the end of the road.  
////  
The warmth of the morning sun woke you from your slumber. Patterns reflected onto the floor as it shone through the stained glass; You had taken refuge in a church for the night. You hadn’t lost as much blood as you thought you had, the wounds easily treatable by a few stitches and a tincture. You had fallen asleep in the main chapel, the sanctuary seeming like the safest place for you that night.  
“The sun! we can see the sun!” one of the younger nuns shouted, running into the main chapel. You turned and gave her a weak smile, still coming out of your deep sleep.  
When you first arrived in this area, a thick cloud seemed to block out the sun, allowing the vampires to terrorise the inhabitants of the land even during the day. The sight of sun was a good sign, indicating that the curse of the Count had lifted.  
But your job still wasn’t done, you still had the nest you had escaped from to deal with. The sunlight provided the perfect conditions.   
“Hellsing!” Jim came running in, a basket in hand.   
“What is it Mason?”  
He held the basket up, pulling back the cover and revealing pastries and other breakfast foods.   
“Breakfast,” he grinned at you. “We need all the energy for today before we can fully relax,” he began to shovel the first pastry he could get his hands on, you laughed and followed suite.   
////  
You looked up to castle for the second time. It looked different during the day, not as foreboding in the sunlight. No movement could be seen in the windows, the heavy curtains were drawn to block out the sun.   
The closer you got the more your neck began to itch; the priest slapped your hand away every time you would try to scratch.   
You turned to look at the small army behind you. ‘How strange’ you thought to yourself. A legion of holy men being led by a woman. How very Joan of Arc of you. You were sure your family would be proud of you now and where you were standing.   
“Orders Ma’am?” one of the monks addressed you.

You took a deep breath, “I want flammables thrown through the windows, those curtains need to be burned down before we go in to tackle the bulk of the nest. I want no showmanship and bravado when we go in. This isn’t an opium den with a few inhabitants, we need to be quick and precise with this one. Far too many have been lost to this nest and its King, and I will not have any more deaths under my command.”   
You gave the hardest stare you could before a reply of ‘understood’ was given.  
Everyone stood in position. You said a prayer, asking for any sort of protection. After a brief silence, you gave the signal. A flurry of explosives broke through panes of glass all around you. You watched as the curtains and interior went up in blue holy flame. Inhuman screeches could be heard from the inside. Your plan had worked, the bulk of the previous night’s guests burned by fire and sunlight.   
You gave the next signal, running in alongside your men, the sound of bullets and more explosives disturbing the afternoon air. Your goal was to get to the heart of the nest, to the brides and the corpse of Michael; that you were sure they were attempting to revive.  
////  
The inner sanctum of the castle was blocked by heavy marble. You did not have enough patience to solve the puzzle, blowing the entrance up to get in.   
It was cold and windowless, the smell of iron and incense overwhelmed you. The priest next to you gagged, throwing his hand over his mouth before lighting some holy incense to counter the smell and to smoke out your targets. You tried your hardest not to snicker at his reaction, giving Jim the look and smiling at each other. You walked through the passageway, ignoring whatever you were stepping through, you really didn’t want to know.   
The sanctum was lit up like the ballroom the night before. The occupants were dressed in black, probably in mourning. The brides stood around the centre and wailed; it grated on your ears.  
You had no time for dramatics, and neither did your men. Various holes being blown into the walls by those that had split off and made their way to the centre from other routes. You made quick work of the occupants, screeches ringing through the air. You made your way to the brides, this was personal.   
“Please, please don’t, we’ve done nothing,” one of them begged. Had this been a few months ago, you were sure the tears would have made you merciful. But your mercy had died with your brother. Without a word, you shot a bullet through her head, unflinching at the black blood that splattered onto you. You shot the other two as they ran from you, watching them heap onto the floor.   
///  
The room was finally silent, you let out a breath you were holding in.   
You turned your attention to the glass coffin that lay in the centre of the sanctum. He was still in the bloodstained clothes from the night before; it seems no one dared to touch the dagger and pull it out in fear of it burning them. He almost looked like fairy-tale prince laid to rest, waiting for his saviour; you were anything but.  
You took another dagger from your pocket, popping open the lid of the coffin.   
“What the hell are you doing?” whispered Jim.  
“I want his head,” you replied, no emotion in your voice. You didn’t look back to see his reaction. It was as if you were possessed, the itching on your neck becoming painful.   
You leaned in with you blade, gripping the top of his head. You began to slice into his neck, ignoring the grotesque noise of sawing through bone.  
You pulled his head up by his hair, holding it in front of you. Jim looked away in horror, probably going off to vomit somewhere. The rest of the men had left the sanctum to spill oil around the castle, readying it for a final fire after you had all left.   
That left you alone in the sanctum.   
You stared at the head in your hands, turning it and inspecting all angles. ‘What a waste of a beautiful face’ you thought to yourself. It was as if even in death, the spell from last night had not yet lifted. His hair and skin were still so soft, the coldness was still the same, as if you were holding a marble bust. His lips still looked so plush. One moment you brought his head closer to take a better look, the next, you had placed your lips over his, desperate to feel them.   
You were snapped out of your trance by the sound of footsteps, quickly moving the head away from you. You licked your lips and you were sure it was your own blood you tasted on them.   
You had been interrupted by Jim and you had never been more grateful.   
“We’re all ready to go, just this room left to set up then we can light the place up,” he explained to you.   
You nodded in response, finally reaching for your own container of oil. You tucked the head under your arm and began to walk around the room, spilling the oil everywhere before walking back towards the entrance.  
“Jim,” you called out, “You didn’t see the head,” you said, glaring at him.  
he gagged in reply ,”I wish I could unsee it, but I won’t tell anyone you have it, you have my word.”  
You thanked him, quickly opening your bag, and gently placing the head inside. You don’t know why you were being so gentle with such a creature.   
////  
The sun hit your face as you reached the rest of the crew. The sky had begun to change colour, indicating the sunset. You had to get out of here as soon as possible.   
“Are we all here? Any casualties?” you asked.  
“We have everyone, and nothing more then a few scratches and scorched clothing,” replied one of the monks.  
You nodded. “Well then gentlemen, are we ready to end this?”   
A cry of ‘yes’ rang through the air.  
You laughed at the response. You took out your brother’s tobacco box and rolled yourself a cigarette. Striking the matches, you quickly lit it, you inhaled once, in honour of your bother, before flicking it onto the oil along with the still lit match. You watched the flame crawl, before it burst up the sides of the stone and into the castle itself.   
A tear fell from your eye, the feeling of relief washing over you. Finally, after all these centuries, the Hellsings had accomplished the task they had vowed to complete.  
You turned and walked back to your horse, the burning building and the sun setting behind you.  
////  
Your family home seemed so empty now. You were its only occupant. The church no longer had any use for you, thinking that their roster was better off without a woman. You didn’t care too much; your family had left other businesses you had to run.   
You kept a few staff members at hand to help you with the day-to-day. But you were alone during the night.  
Almost  
You still had Michael’s head. Forgetting about it until you arrived home and opened the bag. Surprisingly it hadn’t begun to rot like mortal corpses. This must be the reason why monster bodies had to be burned.   
You took the head to your mother’s lab. Gently cleaning it, carefully brushing its hair, before placing it in a glass display case. You had handled it with surprising care, worrying yourself with the lengths you were going to. The only thing left to do was to display it somewhere. It was your trophy, one that you were proud of. And, like a trophy hunter, you wanted to mount him on the wall for all to see. But you were aware of how that idea would be met by repulsion. You were lonely anyway; you did not want to drive people away with your sick idea of décor.   
For some reason, to you, he seemed to sit perfectly on your dressing table in your room. It was as if the case was made to be put there. It brought you no fear at night as your stared at it before going to sleep. It was the first and last thing you saw.   
The bite on your neck had healed, leaving only a light scar. But being in the presence of the head compelled you to poke and pick at it, leaving it in a constantly scabby and bleeding state.   
The hours you spent just staring at the head began to worry your staff. You had become attached. Carrying it with you everywhere; in your office, in the dining room, even talking to it when nobody else was there to listen. Your staff thought you had fully lost it when you began to ask it what colour you should wear for the day.  
////

Your evening dinner and conversation with Michael’s head had been interrupted by Jim. He had stood in the doorway and watched you talk before making his presence known.   
“Y/N,” he said slowly. “I came immediately after your staff told me something was wrong,” he said, slowly stepping towards you.   
You looked at him confused, there wasn’t anything wrong with you.   
“What do you mean? I haven’t come down with a sickness, nor have I injured myself.”  
“The head Y/N, the head. I should have known something was wrong when you took it!”  
“Leave! If you are here to talk me down then just leave”, you shouted, shattering the ceramic cup in your hand.   
Jim ran over to you and gently held your face, kneeling to make eye contact with you.   
“I’m not here to judge you Y/N. I’m concerned. You didn’t get the chance to grieve, you couldn’t mourn your family,” he wiped the tears you didn’t know were falling, “ you were burdened with such a monumental task before you could come to terms with the loss, you’ve let the loneliness consume you enough to become attached to a head,” his voice was so gentle, almost enough to break you out of the spell.   
You held his hand and leaned into his touch, the sliver of human contact felt like heaven.  
He brushed his finger over your scabs, making you hiss as they were constantly tender, “Look at yourself, you keep on hurting yourself.”  
You didn’t like the look of pity in his eyes. You didn’t need anyone’s pity.   
You stood up abruptly, making Jim recoil slightly.  
“Y/N? Where are you going?”  
You took the glass case from the table and began to walk out.   
“You’re right Jim, this is getting out of hand. I think I’ll keep him in the lab for now, and decide what to do with him later,” you smiled at him.  
He smiled back and got up to follow you.  
////   
Jim opened the door with too much enthusiasm, turning on all the lights to the lab. It was just a pristine as your mother had left it.  
You shut the door behind you, carefully clicking the lock in place, quiet enough for Jim not to hear.   
“Remember when we used to annoy your mother in here? running around and touching things,” he laughed at the memories of your childhood, tracing his finger over the shelves.   
You didn’t reply. You placed the case onto the table, then proceeded to pry the glass from the base, exposing the head to the air. You lightly stroked his hair, before removing the cover that was preventing the inside of the head being exposed from where you had cut it; the bone and flesh now visible to you.  
Jim was still talking but you couldn’t hear him. He faced away from you, kneeling, and peering into a case that contained a werewolf skull. The pair of you had helped your mother prepare the specimen when it first came to her.   
Jim was your childhood sweetheart; you had shared many good memories with each-other. Everyone thought that one day that you would be his bride and become a Mason, it was your dream once upon a time. Despite all this, he had married someone else. He had betrayed you. Your mother had held you in this very lab as you cried when your received the invitation, she promised that you would find someone better than him, that he would regret breaking his promise to you.   
Your fingers twitched.   
You had tasted revenge before, it was sweet and addicting. Maybe It was time for Jim to pay his dues as well.   
He still had not turned around. You silently took a sharp blade from the wall. With light steps you walked behind him.   
It was too late when he realised you were standing there, the blade sliced through his neck so cleanly, his head thumping on the floor. You were merciful with your clean cut and that should have been enough for him. you weren’t sure if he even deserved your mercy.  
His blood was all over you, yet you had never felt more joyous. You licked your hand clean of his blood, closing your eyes and letting out a satisfied sigh.   
When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of his headless body. You looked back to the bench behind you and had an idea.  
With all your strength, you pulled the corpse onto the bench. You looked for your mothers sewing supplies and found a strong needle and thick thread.   
You were gentler with the treatment of Michael’s head, carefully pulling his hair back and tying it with a crimson ribbon, out of the way of your work.  
You placed the head where Jim’s should have been; apologising to the head for what you were about to do, then, you began to stich the two together.   
You hummed a tune as you worked, indifferent to the crime you had just committed and the other head rolling around behind you.   
You pulled the final stich, neatly snipping the thread.   
“There, all done, you’re good as new,” you smiled down at your handiwork, kissing his cheek. 

You finally acknowledged the head at your feet, his eyes still open. You lifted it to inspect, much like you had done to Michael’s a few moths ago. “I’m sure your wife wants you back home in time for your anniversary,” you spoke.   
You spent the next hour preserving Jim’s head, placing it into the glass case previously occupied by Michael. You then wrapped the case up tightly and labelling it, ready for the postman to take in the morning. 

You turned your attention back to the corpse you had Frankenstein-ed. You hooked your arms underneath him, dragging him through the hallway and to you room. You removed his shoes and jacket, before placing him into the bed and pulling the blanket over him. You drew the heavy curtains, making a note to ask the staff to replace all the curtains to heavier ones in the morning.   
The dagger you kept under your pillow was pulled out. Lightly cutting your fingertip, you placed it on his lips, smearing your blood around his mouth.  
Finally, you settled for the evening, Jim’s blood still on your skin.   
////  
You awoke in the morning and noticed the blood on your hands. You didn’t know how it got there. The strange stickiness on your face and the smell of iron made you run to your mirror.  
You screamed in horror at what you saw, the blood from the day before dried on you. You finally realised what your had done and began to wail, falling to your knees.  
“NO NO NO WHY DID I…?” you cried, violently sobbing at the loss of your friend. You cried at the grief you would cause others, knowing the package was well on its way to his wife. You thanked god that he did not have any children yet.

Your weeping abruptly stopped as you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. It was if all sense of grief and remorse had just disappeared. Cold arms wrapped themselves around you, stroking your head and shushing you.   
“He deserved it, you know he did,” a familiar voice spoke to you.   
You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, “ H-He did deserve it, he thought I was a fool.”  
“And you’re no fool, are you Y/N?”  
You shook your head, you loved the way your name sounded on his tongue. He had only ever called you Hellsing before, never Y/N.   
You looked up to him, taking in his features in the dim light. His eyes had a glint to them, one of pure satisfaction.   
You began to stare at his lips again, the ‘kiss’ from months ago was always on your mind.   
“Go on,” he whispered.   
You didn’t hesitate, the kiss immediately full of passion. He bit your tongue, drawing blood, but you didn’t flinch’ you know you’d let him do anything to you. 

You disconnected from the kiss, you were mortal after all and did need to breath. Michael brushed over the scabs on your neck, seemingly pleased at you keeping the scar alive. You sighed at feeling his touch, your body had yearned for it for so long.   
In the blink on and eye, Michael had moved you to the bed. Kissing and sucking down your neck, he made quick work of your nightgown, exposing you to the frigid air.   
You didn’t feel shy under his gaze, you only wanted him to see you like this, no one else. He hummed in satisfaction as he ran his cold hands along your body, feeling and squeezing every curve. You sighed at the feeling.   
Michael’s face did not suit the clothing Jim was wearing, it was far too plain for someone of Michaels calibre. So, you gripped his shirt and tore it off with strength you didn’t think you had. Michael looked pleased with your actions.   
His thumbs toyed with your nipples, they seemed far more sensitive than you knew them to be, making you mewl underneath him.   
“I knew you’d make the prettiest of noises.”  
One of his hands travelled down to your weeping cunt, making you sigh at the contact you had been waiting so long for.   
He inserted one finger into you, “you’re so tight,” he groaned.   
He took a nipple into his mouth as he worked his finger inside you, switching to the other breast as he inserted another finger.   
You could feel your belly tightening, almost at the edge, but Michael pulled away before you could.   
He said nothing as he licked his fingers clean, humming at the taste. “everything about you is so sweet,” he grinned.   
“Please,” you begged, not knowing what you were begging for.   
“You’ve been so patient, hmm? I think it’s time for your reward little dove.”  
Michael adjusted himself, gripping your hips as he slowly pushed his way inside you. You squealed at the foreign sensation, yet he slip inside you do easily, stretching you in ways you didn’t know were possible. You had never felt this close to anyone before, deprived of affection and intimacy for so long.   
The pressure started to build again, and Michael thumbed your clit. You began to squeeze down on him, his own actions becoming more erratic.   
The coil finally snapped, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy with a cry of his name. Michael took this as an opportunity to bite down, his fangs entering your neck. The loss of blood seemed to make the feeling more intense, lost in the haze caused by him. But you had been lost in his spell long ago, leading you here now.   
All sense of fear had left you as you pulled him closer to you, letting him drain you to unconsciousness, unsure if you’d ever see the light of day again.

**Author's Note:**

> GOD ive been gone for so long. Im still technically on my break but this is my 'i'm still here' piece lmmaoo  
> thanks for sticking around


End file.
